Billy Sievers wasn’t wrong. Tam did love his plan for getting them into the Mystic server farm, but there were two serious problems with it.
The first was mathematical. Although she didn’t know exactly what kind of odds they would be facing, she doubted very much that the two of them would stand a chance against Martiel’s killers.
They would need reinforcements, and since this would be an unsanctioned operation, those reinforcements would have to be recruited through unofficial channels. Fortunately, she knew just who to call.
The first call she made was to Wayne Valero, advising him that the protest outside the server farm was really just a smokescreen to cover what was essentially a heist. She had also offered to help end the threat permanently. Valero, who was already en route to Spokane, thanked her for the head’s up and promised to advise his on-site security team, which as Sievers had suggested, was composed largely of former SWAT officers and men with special operations backgrounds, but he nevertheless chartered a private jet—a Global 8000—to get her and Sievers to Spokane at Mach 0.95, and agreed to provide logistical support in assembling and equipping her ad hoc strike team.
They were all waiting for her in the hangar at the airport when they arrived, just six hours after taking off from Glasgow.
The first man to greet her was Pete “Professor” Chapman. The lanky sandy-haired former Navy SEAL was actually already one of the Myrmidons, though his current ongoing assignment—safeguarding archaeologist and trouble-magnet Jade Ihara—usually kept him otherwise occupied. He simply acknowledged her with a nod, but the man behind him was more effusive with his greeting.
“Girl, when I told you to hit me up, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
The deep voice belonged to one of Professor’s old SEAL teammates—she was told they preferred the term “swim buddies”—Willis Sanders. Willis was, Tam had to admit, a fine-looking specimen—tall, with a sculpted physique and a smile to die for—but his carefree attitude made him somewhat less than ideal relationship material. He knew, for instance, that she hated being called “girl,” and was just saying it to get a rise out of her. She decided not to take a swing at the obvious slow pitch; this wasn’t a social gathering, and there wasn’t time for banter.
Standing alongside Willis was a slightly shorter man, with a medium build and dark brown hair, named Matt Barnaby. The two men were close friends, and had both joined the Myrmidons during the Atlantis crisis a few years earlier, along with their boss, Avery’s brother Dane Maddock, and his partner-in-crime Uriah “Bones” Bonebrake, though all had since returned to their civilian professions.
Maddock and Bones were there as well, and neither of them looked pleased to see Tam. She braced herself for one of Bones’ signature off-color juvenile quips, but to her astonishment, the normally reserved Maddock spoke first.
“Damn it, Tam. I can’t believe you put Avery at risk like this.”
Tam understood his anger, even if it was misplaced. She squared her shoulders and faced him. “Your sister is a grown woman, Maddock, and she can take care of herself.”
“Obviously,” Bones snorted. “I guess we can go home then.”
Sievers spoke up. “I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, Maddock, but right now, Avery is the least of our worries.”
Tam winced as Maddock’s gaze swung toward the Texan. Maddock was not typically given to chest-thumping displays of manhood, but this situation involved family. Sievers was relatively new to the team. He had never worked with Maddock, and certainly didn’t know him the way Tam did.
The air between the two men seemed to go a few degrees cooler. Sievers, however didn’t back down. “She’s safe. For the moment, at least. Martiel won’t kill her until he gets what he’s after. We have to focus on stopping him. Period.”
Maddock’s stormy blue eyes regarded Sievers for several long seconds, and then he turned back to Tam. “Okay, you called, we came. What’s the plan?”
Tam turned to the remaining person in the room. “Mr. Valero, can you give us the virtual tour?”
Wayne Valero, who had been standing off to the side, chatting with Maddock’s other crewman, Corey Dean, motioned for the rest of them to gather around in a horseshoe. Corey held up an oversized tablet computer, screen facing out and displaying a satellite image of the facility, which consisted of three large rectangular buildings. Tam didn’t get a sense of scale until Valero zoomed in and showed the cars parked out front.
Bones let out a low whistle. “Whoa. That place is bigger than my—”
“Bones!” Tam just managed to silence him before he embarrassed himself with an impossible comparison.
“Hey,” he said, feigning innocence. “I was going to say Caesar’s Palace.”
The buildings were beyond enormous. The largest was probably as big as three or four football stadiums laid side-by-side.
“This is the administration building,” Valero said, pointing to the smallest of the three. He moved his finger to the second and largest building. “The servers are in here, and this—” He indicated a slightly smaller building at the top of the screen, “is the facilities plant. It houses the power plant and coolant systems, which as you can imagine are critical to our operation. If they wanted to destroy Mystic, the facilities plant would be the area of greatest vulnerability.”
“I don’t think he wants to destroy it,” Tam said. “I think he wants to hack it.”
Valero frowned. “He’d have an easier time sabotaging it. As I told you earlier, the only way to change the operating system is from the master terminal in the center of the server complex. And it’s a secure terminal. He won’t be able to just walk up to it and log on.”
“Secure how?” asked Corey Dean.
“Swipe card and biometric just to get in the room. Then you need a sysadmin account and password to log on.”
“There’s always an exploit.”
“Not with Mystic.”
Corey just shrugged. The only member of Maddock’s crew without military experience, Corey earned his keep as the resident tech whiz, and while he was nowhere near as proficient with computer systems as Stone, Tam was inclined to believe him. No system was completely bombproof, and with the Brazen Head in his possession, Martiel had an edge.
Sievers was quick to point out the obvious. “What’s to stop him from just grabbing one of your techs and putting a gun to his head?”
“Uh, well... That’s why I have an internal security force. There’s also a duress protocol. It’s an alternate login password that will notify security of an attempted breach without immediately blocking access.”
Sievers nodded slowly. “You trust your people to think straight under that kind of stress?”
Valero’s head sank a little. “Even if he gets past that, there’s another layer of security. A rotating cipher that changes every minute. The sysadmin has to request it from HQ in New York. It’s sent by text message.”
“Automated?”
“As a rule, yes. But under the circumstances—”
“Under the circumstances, if Martiel threatens to start killing people, are you going to give him the keys to save their lives?”
Rather than explore that rabbit hole, Tam broke in. “We’re not going to let him get that far, but for argument’s sake, let’s assume that’s what he’s going to attempt. How do we stop him?”
“Well, the only way into the server farm is through underground tunnels leading from the admin building.”
“There aren’t any other entrances? Emergency exits? Windows?”
“There are one-way fire exits in the admin building, but not in the server farm or the facilities building.”
“How’d you clear that with OSHA?” Bones wondered aloud.
“So that’s our objective,” Tam said, ignoring the question. “We’re going to secure the admin building, stash the civilians somewhere they’ll be safe, then pull your security forces back inside and set a trap for Martiel. Can we get a look at the interior layout?”
Corey turned the screen away for a few seconds, then displayed it again, this time showing the floor plan of the admin building.
“We can set an ambush in the lobby,” Tam continued. “Let them get inside, and then take them down.”
Maddock crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re forgetting about the hostages. If this Martiel guy is using Avery as a human shield, we’re screwed. And so is she.”
“About that,” Tam said with a sigh. Maddock’s question had indirectly brought her to the second problem with Sievers’ original plan, and she knew the men standing around her weren’t going to like her solution. “We’re going to be using less lethal weapons for the takedown. No guns.”
The declaration was received about as well as she had anticipated.
“You’re freaking kidding me,” Bones said.
Tam shook her head. “Even if we didn’t have to consider the hostages, we would have to do it this way. I don’t have the authority to conduct a law enforcement operation on American soil.”
“Screw authority. It’s private property. They’re trespassing.”
Tam shook her head. “Mr. Valero’s security team might get a pass, but technically the rest of us are vigilantes, and if we start killing people, the law won’t be on our side. Especially not out here in the boonies.”
Maddock raised his hands. “Bones, let’s hear her out. I’m not saying I like the idea, but at least it ensures that Avery and Stone won’t take friendly fire.” He faced Tam. “What do you mean by less-lethal?”
Tam turned to Valero who took the cue. “I was able to acquire most of what you asked for. A dozen Taser X2 Defender stun guns, six cartridges for each. Three Mossberg 500 pump action shotguns and a case of Hammer bean bag rounds to go in them.”
“Did you boys bring along any shotguns?” Tam asked.
Maddock shook his head.
“We’ll have to flip for them then. Just remember, less-lethal can still be lethal, and that’s what we’re trying to avoid.” She looked to Valero again. “What about the PHaSR rifle?”
Bones let out a guffaw, probably recalling the first time he and Maddock had met Tam in the jungles of Brazil. She had been working undercover for the FBI then, and armed with one of the futuristic dazzle guns. Despite the name—an homage to Star Trek, no doubt—the PHaSR, or Personal Halting and Stimulation Response rifle was a real device, which employed intense light and laser energy to blind and disorient someone, theoretically taking them out of the fight. The PHaSR had been developed for the military, but never really caught on.
Valero shook his head. “Couldn’t find any at short notice, but I did pick up some Streamlight Tactical Flashlights. My security team uses them.”
Tam shrugged off her disappointment. In terms of bang-for-buck, the tac-lights were probably a better choice, achieving the same effect—temporarily blinding a hostile—without the added bulk. “The goal here is to lure them in and then strike decisively. Lights and Tasers first, bean bag rounds if anyone is still standing. The Tasers will incapacitate for five to ten seconds, so we’ll have to move in quick to disarm and restrain. Any questions?”
“How many bad guys are we talking about?” Willis asked.
“That I can’t tell you. The news reports put the number of protestors at around a hundred and fifty, but to pull this off, Martiel will need to keep most of them right where they are. He’ll probably take a dozen or so with him to take the facility. Any more than that—”
As Tam was trying to finish her assessment, a mobile phone ringtone sounded, distracting her. The phone belonged to Valero, and he turned away to answer the call. Tam had the uneasy feeling that it wasn’t good news, and she was right.
Valero’s head sagged in defeat as he put the phone away. “We’re too late.”
“What happened?”
“That was the site manager, Ray Spaulding. It’s started. They came in posing as a news crew. When the security force tried to stop them, they used one of the hostages as a human shield and then opened up with automatic weapons. My security team was decimated. They’ve fallen back to the admin building, but they won’t be able to hold out for long.”
Maddock stiffened. “We have to go. Now.”
Valero shook his head. “Thank you for trying, but it seems our window of opportunity has already closed.”
Tam stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell your people inside to barricade the door. Hold them off until we can get there.”
“I can’t ask them to throw their lives away,” Valero said.
“If we don’t stop Martiel,” Sievers said, “A lot more innocent people are gonna suffer and die.”
“They don’t have to fight,” Tam said, hoping that it would be true. “They just need to buy us some time. Fifteen minutes.”
Valero looked unsure but took out his phone. As he made the call, Tam turned back to the others. “Corey, you’re going to be our eyes and ears. Coordinate with Valero and his people on the inside. They have to slow Martiel down but tell them not take any crazy chances. Everyone else...” She paused a beat and grinned remembering the part of Sievers’ plan she was actually looking forward to. “Grab your gear. It’s time to go jump out of a perfectly good airplane.”